


Unforeseen Consequences

by fawatson



Category: RENAULT Mary - Works
Genre: Gen, ITOWverse, Metafiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-16
Updated: 2010-06-16
Packaged: 2018-05-22 09:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6074050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fawatson/pseuds/fawatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Secretary ponders the mutability of the community's clubhouse and the increasingly various characters from Renault's books who spend time there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unforeseen Consequences

They hadn’t had this problem before. 

The Secretary heaved a sigh—a deep sigh—and shifted uneasily in the rocking chair as she shuffled her paperwork.  She had got used to change since her arrival.  It wasn’t quite what she would have expected—before her posting here, that is (not that she had ever dreamed this would be where she spent her ever-after).  Had she been asked, she would have said the clubhouse would probably be a rather _static_ place.  After all, most of the characters had been dead for over two thousand years, and the others had only existed in the author’s imagination and _she_ was dead. 

Little had she known.  Originally only the most central characters had visited, in some cases quite tentatively, and clearly only by invitation.  However, last year, several minor characters had found their way to the community.  And they all were spending more time here.  Even characters who spent most of their time in the novels now regularly dropped in to see what was happening.  And it wasn’t just the named characters!  In point of fact, the size of Alexander’s conquering army was dwarfed by the multitude of slaves and servants who had overrun the house and grounds.  (It seemed they found the work lighter here than in their own time).  One would have thought that the character glossaries would have put limits to the numbers using the clubhouse, but far from it.  They had only served to remind the handmaidens about quite a number of obscure characters who now actually had fic of their own!  Some of the major characters who didn’t have their own fic were deeply jealous.  (Only yesterday she’d had to field yet another complaint from King Darius that he was still waiting for his interview.) 

Nor was it just the fluctuating but ever-growing numbers of characters on-site.  The small simple clubhouse from two years ago had steadily grown.  Originally just one room (like those pioneer cabins of old) it had expanded—first to include a porch and patio, then extensive grounds to the front (including a fountain), then a river and mountains, and finally drill fields to the rear.  To the simple study, had been added a ballroom, and then a theatre. The kitchen had gone through several facelifts. 

The Secretary shifted uncomfortably again.  Her musings had brought her full circle.  Some of the changes had been short-lived; some had stood the test of time.  The problem was the handmaidens didn’t always think ahead when they orchestrated these changes; they didn’t consider all possible consequences.  The bathhouse for instance:  its arrival had been most welcomed by the ancients (who, while expressing their appreciation for the conveniences of modern plumbing, had simultaneously lamented the cramped quarters of 1930s-style bathing facilities).  The community now boasted three bathhouses, and increasingly characters deserted the sitting room in favour of the sybaritic delights they offered.  In fact, that was the problem. 

There was a slight scratching noise at the study door, before it was pushed open to reveal one fat smiling _oily_ countenance. 

“Dear Lady,” he said, “sitting on your own _again_.  Surely there is something I can interest you in?  I hate to think of a customer—especially such an important customer as you—going unsatisfied.”

Inwardly she shuddered, but dutifully fixed a thin smile on her lips.  “Thank you, but no, Gurgos,” said the Secretary.

“As you will.”  He bowed respectfully and left.

Yes, indeed—the bathhouses:  one for the ladies and one for the gentlemen; one for....

It had made poor Phaedo quite uncomfortable.  (He had gone straight back to his book.)  Yet Gurgos was a character too, and unlike the river and theatre, he showed no sign of fading away.  Perhaps, after all, she had better consult the Moderators.  Awkward and even occasionally unpleasant characters she’d learned how to deal with.  (Gareth Straike, for instance, who could sometimes be extremely difficult).  She’d found she’d become surprisingly fond of Olive (despite her unparalleled talent for saying the wrong thing). 

But this?  Well, she really hadn’t had to deal with _anything_ like this before.


End file.
